


the ones who stay behind

by andorgyny



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andorgyny/pseuds/andorgyny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what does linear life mean for ex-time travelers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ones who stay behind

**Author's Note:**

> in which martha marries mickey but something happens to him, and clara doesn’t ever see the doctor again after death in heaven

Clara quits her job. It doesn’t take long for the absence of Danny Pink to break her, for the pitying glances and the quiet condolences to smash her confidence into a million tiny stars, stars like the ones she used to travel in the Before days.

For a while, she stays indoors, reading books about heroes and demons and the holes that fill you when you fall for someone impossible. Occasionally, she goes to the park. Danny’d left her his meager savings, and she uses it to take care of her new (and unwanted) charge.

He speaks Kurdish, a language she has no knowledge of, and so he remains silent over meals. He tells her his name is Chiya with a universally-recognized thumb to his chest. She nods. “Clara,” she says, pointing to herself.

He repeats her. It is a start.

There is no spare bedroom in her flat so she takes the sofa. At night she hears the young boy crying into her pillows. She wonders what it is like to feel alive and dead at once. “Clara,” he calls from the bedroom on the first night. “Clara!”

She gets up and walks into her room to find him sitting on her bed, knees up against his body. He says something to her in his native tongue and she bites her lip.

“Are you okay?” she asks. He looks at her and begins to speak again, frantic as he’s ever been.

.”I… I don’t understand, sweetie.”

Chiya continues to speak until he quiets. When he finishes, he nods at her. “Clara,” he says, and somehow she knows he is saying thank you.

“You’re welcome,” she whispers, tucking him back into the bed. “Now sleep.”

  
  


She ventures out of the flat, if only because she can’t keep a restless child imprisoned in there for more than a few days. Chiya loves the park, she can tell. He plays football with other children. She doesn’t know what to do.

Someone sits beside her on the bench. “He’s a beautiful boy,” the woman says. Clara sighs.

“He’s not mine. Not really… I can’t… well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Oh believe me, I understand.” The woman beside her laughs for a moment before sobering. “I saw you on the news.”

Clara tenses up, looking at the woman and frowning. “I don’t want to talk--”

“Of course you do. You just can’t find anyone who can actually empathize or get what you’re going through.” The older woman studies her for a moment. “I saw you on the news and I knew, I just knew. I’d found someone like me. We all have that weird sort of spark in our eyes, that burden on our shoulders, like we’ve seen great and terrible things--because we have.”

“I--I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m Martha,” the woman says. “Martha Jones. And I traveled with the Doctor, too.”

Clara panics. “How the hell do you know about that?”

“Like I said, it’s written in your eyes.” Martha pauses and reaches for a chain around her neck. “Look, you can trust me.”

Clara’s eyes widen. “That’s a TARDIS key. When?”

“Oh, years ago. 2007, I think. Linear time is exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” she says, settling back into the bench. She looks back to Chiya and finds him on the swings, chatting away to a little blonde girl who clearly doesn’t care that she cannot understand him. “What did he look like then?”

“He was gorgeous,” Martha says. “He had this great head of hair and these beautiful, soulful eyes, and he was thin and strong and sort of a dream.”

“The tenth, then.” Clara vaguely remembers her adventure with the younger Doctor. “Cheerful as sin. I think he was in pain, though.”

Martha looks at her in surprise. “You met him?”

“Yeah, just for a bit, though.” I met all of him, she thinks but doesn’t say.

The other woman nods. “I only ever knew the one. Rose, though, I know she traveled with two of him.”

“Who?”

Martha throws her a strange look. “Rose Tyler. She was with him before me. And he wouldn’t let me forget it, either.” She bites her lip. When Clara shakes her head, Martha raises a brow. “Blimey, he must be hundreds of years older if he’s not still hung up on her.”

“My Doctor was two-thousand years old. I think yours was 900-odd years? That’s a long time.”

“Sure is. I wonder if he remembers us at all. The ones who stayed behind.”

Clara frowns. “He’s only ever mentioned two former companions to me, and I don’t really know much about them. I think he tries to keep it to himself.”

“You’re a teacher, right?”

She hesitates. “I used to be. Then… things happened and it got complicated. And I left.”

“Yeah, that’s how I saw you. On the news, I mean. Do you have your mobile?”

Clara passes it to the other woman who quickly types something. “What are you doing?”

“In case you ever need a friend who understands. Call me.”

She stands. “Look, it’s tough. I lost someone too, years back. It wasn’t the Doctor’s fault, but he could have helped. And he didn’t. I dunno, maybe he couldn’t have. But my Mickey Smith is dead because the Doctor didn’t come to call one day. I know what it’s like. And I also know what it’s like to have to move on. I have to go, but don’t you ever hesitate to call me.”

Clara stares at her screen as a tear slips down her cheek.

  
  


She looks up Martha Jones on her laptop when she gets home. Chiya is watching telly in the living room. He is careful not to sit on her sofa, taking a blanket and choosing the floor instead.

Clara is not the best cook, but she’s learned how to prepare basics, and so while her soup is cooking on the stove, she reads about her new… well, she doesn’t know what to call Martha. Not yet.

The other woman is a doctor. There isn’t much else about her, except for some snippets on news articles about that time the Royal Hope hospital went missing back in 2007. Clara smiles despite herself. Maybe the Doctor was there.

She types in Mickey Smith, and there’s a bit more. He died in 2009, when the government colluded with an unknown alien race for unknown reasons. It’s all classified. He’d worked for Torchwood, a name she recognizes vaguely, and had grown up near where she did. There was also an old article about Rose Tyler, who had apparently gone missing in 2005; her mother had blamed Mickey Smith for her disappearance.

The date in the article made her pause. Rose Tyler had disappeared on the day Ellie Oswald had died.

Clara shuts her laptop. She returns to her soup and adds salt. It’s not terrible, she supposes.

  
  


“Thanks for meeting with me,” Clara says. “I just… It’s been three months and he’s starting to, I dunno, like it here. And I can’t keep him.”

“I know,” Martha says over her coffee. “So… he came back from the dead? Because your Danny Pink saved him? I’m not sure I understand.”

“I don’t either, not really. But I don’t know what to do. I can’t actually bring him back to his family, they’ll lose their minds. People don’t come back from the dead, they just don’t.”

“Maybe the Doctor can help,” the other woman suggests.

“No! I mean, he doesn’t know. And I don’t want him to know. Look, I’d love to see him again, but it’s done. I can’t. And anyway, I deleted his number from my phone.”

“Too much temptation?”

“More like self-preservation,” Clara answers.

Martha smiles. “Well, I have his number. And he has my phone. At least, my Doctor does. Maybe he can help. And that way, you won’t really know him and he’ll have to forget you anyway.”

“I don’t know. I mean, it would help, definitely. There’d be no language barrier. But I just can’t do that anymore.”

“Think about it. Like you said, you can’t keep him here forever. It’s not fair to either of you, and it’s certainly not what Danny wanted, from what you told me. He wanted to make things right, I’ll bet. And for better or worse, he left it on your shoulders.” Martha reached out and held her hand. “But you’re not alone, Clara. The Doctor always leaves pieces of himself behind for us. I don’t think he does it intentionally, but there’s a reason I was able to find you. Little hints on the wind, things like that. And a note, from a man with grey hair and lonely eyes.”

Clara frowns. “I thought you saw me on the news.”

“I did,” Martha clarifies. “But only for a second. I freelance around the world, but everyone’s got their eyes on London whenever the Cybermen arrive. I tried UNIT, but that led nowhere. And then that man came to me, like he always does--unannounced--and he seemed… tired. But well.”

Something like courage or fear wraps around her heart. Maybe hope. “Was he alone?”

“No.”

“Good. That’s wonderful.”

Martha sighs. “I get it, it’s tough. When you love someone like the Doctor, you never really get over it. But you try. And that’s what matters. And I think the best thing is knowing that he’s always got friends. You’re not the first, you’re not the last--and that can make you jealous or hurt, but in the end, when you leave the TARDIS, it only makes you happy for him. Because that way he’s never really on his own.”

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” Clara says, smiling despite herself.

“Yeah, I have.”

“Alright, you can call him. Your Doctor.”

  
  
  


They meet at Martha’s townhouse. Clara holds Chiya’s hand in hers. Martha rolls her eyes when the TARDIS materializes in her living room. “God, Doctor, there’s a garden. I told you.”

He shrugs. “She’s feeling queasy. I’ll try harder next time.” He looks at Clara and Chiya, and smiles, but there’s no recognition in his eyes. “You’re Clara, then.”

“Hello, Doctor. I didn’t know what else to do,” she starts.

“Don’t worry. Martha explained everything. I’ll have to erase my memories of this, since I can’t recognize you when I meet you for the first time.” He steps closer to her. “I trust Martha with my life. And I don’t know you yet, but if you’re Martha’s friend, then you’re my friend.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“No problemo! Now, Chiya, I presume you are wondering why you can understand us.”

Clara turns to the boy, who is wide-eyed and staring at the Doctor. Oh shit. They hadn’t even tried to explain what was going to happen to the boy. How could they even start?

“You’re all speaking my language,” the boy says eventually. “How?”

“My spaceship, this box here,” the Doctor starts, tapping the side of the TARDIS. “Well, she can translate every language ever. Mostly. And Kurdish is an easy one. For a TARDIS. Now, she’s also a time machine. And you know what time machines can do, right?”

The boy nods, excitement in his eyes. “You’re going to take me home?”

The Doctor sighs. “I can try. The thing is, my lad, humans are silly. Your parents might not get how you can be dead one minute and alive the next. Did anyone really ever explain it to you?” Clara gasps. She didn’t even think about what it must have been like for him. All of this time, and she’s been thinking only of herself. And her pain. “No?” He looks at Martha and Clara. “You should have called me sooner.”

“Doctor,” Martha snaps. “It’s not that simple!”

“I know! I know,” he says. “You’re name is Chiya, right?” The boy nods. “Iraq is not a happy place at this point in time. I’d feel uncomfortable taking you there, when it’s so bleak. You’re going back in time, to the day you were found dead. And we’re gonna fix it.”

“Like Danny wanted,” Clara murmurs.

“Now, quickly. You will stay inside the TARDIS until we get to your home. Martha and I will deal with the… er, body.”

“But you’ll make sure he is able to be uploaded, right? I mean, otherwise there’ll be a paradox,” Clara says.

“We’ll bury him in London. A proper burial. That way the timeline will remain intact and the… Master, was it? Blimey. Anyway, he’ll be able to upload Chiya to his corpse database or whatever it is.”

“What will I do?” she asks.

“Stay in the TARDIS with Chiya. I thought that’d be obvious. You’re his guardian, his protector. You’ll bring him home. No explanations, no confusion. Simple.”

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s do it.”

  
  


Chiya runs to his home, tears in his eyes. The Doctor had made him promise to never speak about what happened to him. And to use Danny Pink’s sacrifice for good.

Clara watches him go and boards the TARDIS, smiling even though she’s a bit heartbroken. She’d sort of grown to love him. And she knows he’d been her last shot at having a family.

She touches the bracelet on her wrist and thinks Danny would be proud.

The funeral is quiet. There’s no one but the three of them. A child is dead, but he is also so very alive, and that keeps their spirits up.

They return to her present shortly after. Martha kisses the Doctor’s cheek. “Be safe,” she says.

Clara hugs him. “Thank you.”

He smiles down at her. “Can’t wait to make your acquaintance, Clara Oswald.”

The TARDIS leaves them. And Clara knows that’s her last goodbye. But not his.

 

There’s a knock on her door. She gets up from the sofa and turns off the telly. Martha’s in the kitchen, preparing tea.

A young man with brown skin smiles at her when she opens the door. “Clara,” he says in a familiar accent.

She gasps. “Chiya? Little Chiya? You’re all grown up! How are you here?”

He laughs. “My family moved here three years ago. But I could not see you again until after you finished with the little me. That is what the Doctor said.”

He pulls her into an embrace. “You saved me, all those years ago. I was so scared, and you were there for me, even in your grief. It was not perfect, but it was home. For a little while, anyway.”

“Come in, Martha’s here.”

“I cannot,” he says. “I am afraid I must go to class now, but I wanted to see you. Tell Martha hello from me.”

She beams up at him. “You are always welcome here. Any time.”

“Thank you, Clara. Goodbye.”

She shuts the door as he walks away and chuckles to herself. Martha pokes her head into the hall. “Who was that?”

“I’d say you’d never believe me, but then, I think you’ll believe me more than anyone.” Clara takes her hand, presses a kiss to her lips. “I think I’m ready to go.”

“Really?”

Two years. Two years since Danny, since the Doctor. Well, her Doctor, anyway. “Yeah,” she says. “Let’s see this world. I’ve got a book to fill up.”


End file.
